


android dreams

by Anonymous



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 05:11:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15236067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There’s something peaceful about sleep. The even rise and fall of Elijah’s chest. Connor’s palm flutters, traces the line of Elijah’s jaw and the hint of stubble that’s appeared somewhere between last night and now. 06:54. Outside, the sun has started to rise.





	android dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hiyodayo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyodayo/gifts).



> I got started on a gift-fic for you but it was starting to get long and I write really slowly, so please have a small and soft drabble in the meantime!
> 
> AO3 has no private messaging function, so I wanted to be able to post something for you to convey my sentiment: you deserve all the nice things.

 

There’s something peaceful about sleep. The even rise and fall of Elijah’s chest. Connor’s palm flutters, traces the line of Elijah’s jaw and the hint of stubble that’s appeared somewhere between last night and now. 06:54. Outside, the sun has started to rise.

Elijah’s internal clock is almost as precise as an android’s, and Connor documents it indistinctly: the shift in heartbeat, the change in breathing. After a moment he withdraws his hand back to his side.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, when he’s judged the man to be more or less awake.

Elijah’s eyes open and flicker to him. A faint smile ghosts across his lips as he sees Connor. “Good morning.” Sleep still colours his voice, lower and rougher than usual. He raises an eyebrow just slightly. “I did tell you to enter standby mode.”

“You told me I could.” Connor corrects. And then, after a pause. “I could have.”

The man takes a moment to examine him. “You don’t look like you have.”

Connor’s brows furrow. “I don’t think you should be able to notice that.” Still, he supposes he isn't surprised Elijah can tell. The man _is_ his creator, in a roundabout way.

“Am I to guess you spent the night contemplating the decor?”

“Watching you.” Connor frowns. “I’m sorry, that sounds…” _Disturbing_ , his mind supplies. _You’re a creep_ , Gavin Reed’s voice supplies, a perfect reproduction of the incident at the DPD last week. Connor almost groans.

Elijah hums, turning over so he’s facing Connor more fully. It reveals the hint of amusement curling his mouth, a thread of something teasing in his voice. “I don’t mind. Did you find anything interesting?”

“You’re always interesting to me. I like watching you.” Connor says with complete honesty. He pauses, a look of brief concern passing over his features. “It does not cause you any discomfort? I will stop, if it does.”

He ruthlessly suppresses the voice in his head that sounds unerringly like Detective Reed.

Elijah’s hand has found its way to the side of Connor’s face, a thumb brushing the line of his cheekbone. He looks amused still. “No, though I’m either flattered or concerned you have nothing else to do with your time.”

Connor’s lips tug up in an involuntary smile, even as his cheeks flush with blue. His mouth opens to reply, but he finds that he has nothing in mind to reply with. He tilts his head into Elijah’s touch instead, gives himself another moment to think. “There’s nothing else I’d rather do. And you did ask me to stay.”

“So I did.” Elijah’s fingers are tracing patterns on Connor’s forehead, thumb lingering over the lazily spinning blue of his LED. It’s a pleasurable sensation, one Connor leans into with a soft sigh.

Outside, Connor’s audio processors catch the sound of birds overhead, water lapping against the walls of the residence. He supposes he could have mentioned that as well: he hasn’t _just_ been watching Elijah in silence for the length of the night. He catches Elijah’s fingers in his, presses a kiss to the back of his hand. The smile is still on his face (he thinks it might stay there all morning), “I’ll go and make breakfast.”

Connor sits up, and maybe this is what humans experience every morning, limbs slower than normal as they move. Though perhaps it’s only lethargy for humans, rather than limb recalibration caused by too long spent motionless. Nonetheless, the sensation is almost pleasant- the way he imagines it might be pleasant for a human.

He _is_ surprised by the hand curling around his wrist. Perplexed enough that when Elijah tugs him back down, he takes 0.17 parts of a second to catalogue and analyze the action before common sense takes over: he lets himself be pulled back onto the bed, still confused.

In fact, as soon as he _is_ pulled back down, Connor becomes abruptly aware of the shift in posture between them both. Elijah is above him now- definitely more awake than he had been a moment ago- the smile curving his mouth turned into a smirk. He’s closeted between the man’s arms- one hand beside Connor’s shoulder, the other still closed around the android’s wrist, pinning him down.

He can feel the man’s body heat. It isn’t his imagination, surely- the heat where Elijah’s palm rests so close to Connor’s neck, where his fingers are closed around Connor’s wrist; the touch almost burning. Something about the aura of the scene feels like it’s changed completely. His thoughts stutter. He thinks he might be misjudging the situation. Appalling so.

In fact, Connor thinks his concentration is split between the creeping heat at every point Elijah is touching him (throat, shoulder, wrist, knee), and being overly fixated on Elijah’s smirk, the curve of his mouth and his lips.

Is he becoming dirty-minded? The idea is somewhat horrifying. Perhaps he should have listened to North’s warnings after all, instead of paying them the appropriate amount of thought and dismissing them immediately afterwards.

Connor blinks, refuses to let his eyes drift lower than Elijah’s jaw. He looks at the asymmetric patterns on the ceiling instead, at the long locks of hair falling past and framing Elijah’s face.

Elijah’s hand is still on his wrist.

He wills the flush of thirium out of his cheeks. Almost coughs when he realizes he hasn’t spoken at all. “Yes?” Connor asks, weakly, and then he wills every inappropriate thought out of mind as well, with sheer and unmitigated resolve.

“Well, for someone who spent the night in our bed watching me, you’re suddenly dreadfully keen on leaving it.” Elijah looks terribly amused when Connor’s head jerks a little, his smirk unequivocally wicked. His voice dips lower when Connor’s eyes find his once more, once all of Connor’s focus is on Elijah. “I’m sure Chloe’s already making breakfast, I think I’ll keep you in my bed a little while longer.”

Connor swallows. Abruptly, every thought he’s spent the last few seconds trying to contain spills back out with a vengeance.

 _Ah_.

Well, perhaps he hadn’t misjudged the situation after all.

“I… wouldn’t be altogether opposed to that,” Connor says, a patently feeble attempt at maintaining composure; one that vanishes altogether when Elijah laughs, leans down and kisses him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read, or even read through properly before it's being posted. I wanted to get this out ASAP, but I'll likely edit and proofread this drabble soon (I'll edit this end note when I do).


End file.
